


The Pet Party

by marguerite_26



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Play, Collars, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:59:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/pseuds/marguerite_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana hosted the strangest parties. Before Arthur even walked in the door, he knew this one would top them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pet Party

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Kinkspiration - Round 5: Role Play](http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/657340.html).
> 
> Thanks to my betas [](http://melusinahp.livejournal.com/profile)[**melusinahp**](http://melusinahp.livejournal.com/) and [](http://snegurochka-lee.livejournal.com/profile)[**snegurochka_lee**](http://snegurochka-lee.livejournal.com/).

Arthur stood outside the door to Morgana’s flat, debating whether knocking would be the best course, or if turning around and heading back towards the lift would save him a night of torment. On one hand, he hadn’t been spotted yet. On the other, he couldn’t avoid Morgana forever and she wouldn’t let him live it down if he fled.

When she’d handed him his invite there had been a glint in her eye that had made the hair at his nape rise. The invitation itself had said little, calling it a _themed_ party -- as if Morgana ever hosted anything else -- but nothing gave away the theme.

Arthur had learned to be wary and his step-sister wasn’t giving the faintest hint this time. The feeling of foreboding had only increased when he’d asked Merlin if he wanted a ride -- once Arthur’d forgotten to offer and the idiot had _biked_ to Morgana’s in _November_ , and Arthur hadn’t forgotten since. At Arthur’s offer, Merlin had muttered, “Morgana asked me to go early.” Then he’d suddenly found his fingernails fascinating. “But you’ll be there, right?” he’d added, eyes flicking up to catch Arthur’s reaction.

And _that_ was the only reason he’d made it this far.

The last time had been a séance, which had been bearable only because Merlin kept giggling, then apologising profusely until Morgana threw the Ouija board at his head. Everyone got well smashed that night. The time before that it was dinner and a murder -- in which Arthur had to dress in full safari gear, pith helmet included. Before that had been a medieval meal, with greasy meats and no utensils. Morgana teased him every time she saw that the crown Arthur had worn was still proudly displayed on the top of his mantel.

But those had come with warnings, costume requests and strict instructions about staying _in character_... at least until they were on their fourth round of Morgana’s mystery punch and no one gave a fuck anymore.

This time, though, Morgana had just told him, “Come.” Which did nothing to help Arthur prepare himself.

“You came!”

It took a second for Arthur to realise Morgana’s door hadn’t opened, but rather that the voice came from behind him. He turned to see Gwen stepping away from the lift, her hand clasped over her mouth.

“Sorry, Arthur. I didn’t mean to imply--”

“That I wouldn’t be caught dead here if I knew what this was about?”

Gwen pressed her lips together in an attempt not to laugh. “It’s not that bad.”

“Right,” Arthur said, doubtful. “Where’s Lance?”

“Oh, he decided to be the one to... “ She stopped, wincing. “Oh, you probably weren’t asked...”

“Asked what?”

“I mean, um, it’s obvious which you’d choose,” Gwen said in a flurry of words, none of which were making any sense. “Let’s just go in.”

“Wait, you know -- ”

But Gwen rapped on the door before he could stop her. The door swung open and Morgana’s face turned positively _gleeful_ when she spotted him.

“You came!” she mimicked Gwen’s words, adding a toothy smile that made Arthur take a step backwards.

“Why did Gwen get told the theme and I didn’t?” He shot Gwen a betrayed look, but she shrugged innocently and pushed passed him and into the party.

Morgana laughed and entwined her arm with Arthur’s, pulling him into her flat. “Because I wanted you to come.”

The flat was warm, the heat prickling uncomfortably at his neck as he toed off his shoes. The smell of incense had Arthur wrinkling his nose. It fogged his thoughts as he tried to absorb what he was seeing as he entered the living room.

“I know you’d regret missing this,” Morgana whispered in his ear.

The room looked nothing like Morgana’s living room. The sleek modern couch and glass coffee table were gone and replaced with several large round pillows and bean bag chairs. The hardwood floor was covered in a huge rug, so plush and padded that Arthur nearly stumbled as his stocking feet sunk in.

They weren’t the first to arrive, but Arthur couldn’t see Merlin as his gaze passed over the room. His gut twisted in disappointment. Gwaine and Elena sat next to each other; their broad smiles and pink cheeks said the drinks in their hands weren’t their first. Gwaine struggled to rise from his chair (if one could call it that) and, unsurprisingly, headed for the bar. He filled his glass from the infamous punch bowl and poured a second. Walking over to Arthur, he handed it over.

“Thank fuck you showed, you arse. Morgana made us wait for you.”

Arthur grabbed the offered glass and took a generous gulp. It warmed his belly. Whatever it was that Morgana put in her concoction, it always went down too easily, but was usually essential in getting through the theme of the night.

“Wait for what?” Arthur asked. He could _feel_ Morgana’s smile at the false nonchalance in his tone; she knew he hated being the last to know.

Snorting, Gwaine turned to wave his arm out towards the dining room. “To choose our _pet_.”

Arthur could barely hear what Gwaine was saying over the buzzing in his ears as he looked across to Morgana’s dining room. But he felt the smack to his shoulder as Gwaine’s hand came down, and Gwaine’s voice crackling with laughter. _”Your face, mate,”_ finally filtered through but not enough for Arthur to tear his eyes from the sight.

The other half of their little circle of friends -- Freya, Lancelot, Percival and naturally, Merlin -- were all huddled together next to Morgana’s dining room table -- though not so much next to as _under_ it. They were _on their hands and knees_ under Morgana’s dining room table. From what Arthur could see they were each dressed differently, ears and tails of various sorts, but they had thick black collars around their necks and leads tied to the dining room chair nearest them.

They were cramped; Percival barely fit, his arse sticking out the back of the table to show off a thick, bushy horse tail.

Gwen had wasted no time and was already kneeling by Lancelot.

“Unfair!” Gwaine shouted. “Is she buying already? I wanted Lancelot.”

Merlin looked over, caught and held Arthur’s gaze. For a dozen heartbeats, Arthur’s mind looped on that fact Merlin was currently wearing _a fucking collar_ , before he was finally able to tear his eyes away and refocus on Gwaine.

“No one would let you pick Lancelot, Gwaine,” Arthur chided. “God, those two are practically married.”

Morgana gave him an odd sort of look. “You approve, then?”

“Of what? You suddenly becoming a slave-trader?” Arthur forced himself to keep his eyes on Morgana. Lately, Merlin had a way of making him lose his head. It was disconcerting. It upset the delicate balance of their friendship. Merlin in a _collar_ wouldn’t be any help tonight.

Morgana tsked. “They aren’t slaves, Arthur. They are pets. Animals. And they’ve agreed to remain in-character for the entire evening. It’s just a bit of fun.”

Arthur looked over and sure enough, Freya was licking the back of her hand as though grooming herself like a cat. Her fingernails were fierce, long black talons and Arthur wondered what the manicurist had thought when she’d glued on those claws. Gwen was scratching Lancelot behind a long shaggy ear. With a giggle, she held out her palm. He barked and began to lick it, in long, wet strokes.

Cheeks hot, Arthur snapped his gaze away.

“If we’re ready,” Elena said, falling off her chair in an attempt to stand -- it was always hard to tell if it was alcohol or just natural clumsiness with her. “I want a pony.”

She dug her wallet from her purse, handed Morgana fifty pounds and went over the untie Percival’s lead.

“What was that?” Arthur looked at Morgana, outraged. “We’re actually _paying you_. You are … you’re pimping. Holy shit. You are pimping our friends.”

“Calm down, Arthur. This isn’t a cheap party to host, and everyone agreed. And we all drop fifty quid at a bar on a Friday without thinking about it.”

“I didn’t agree to anything! And what about them?” He motioned over to the table, where Gwen was untying Lancelot. “Are you making them pay for their evening too?”

“They’re doing all the work, aren’t they? Remember the little Improv night we had last year? You paid because you sat and watched. Everyone willing to make an arse of themselves on my ‘stage’ got off free that night.” Morgana’s lips curled as she leaned forward to whisper, “Or would you rather be in their place? I have an extra collar. You could be dragged about on a lead all night.”

“Bitch.” Arthur sneered, by way of conceding. He turned to hide his flushed face.

Gwen squeezed past Arthur, Lancelot following on his hands and knees and making a big show of catching the cuff of Gwen’s jeans in his teeth as she tried to hand Morgana some cash. Gwen tried to get him to stop, but was laughing too hard to get a word out. She settled on shortening his lead and tugging him towards one of the pillows.

Under the dining room table only Freya and Merlin were left. Merlin was pale in the candlelight, his face washed out further by the black costume. His cheeks were painted with stylized black whiskers that twisted from either side of his nose and out across his cheek bones. Small felt triangle ears sat atop his head. Beside him, Freya’s makeup was completely different. She had sharp, jagged lines for whiskers and heavy makeup around her eyes, making her look more like a panther than a simple house cat. Merlin, on the other hand, who pawed at his own tail as though it were the most fascinating thing, looked more like the type of cat to invite a mouse for a spot of tea.

Arthur watched as Gwaine stood by the the table, rubbing his chin as he looked between the two like he wouldn’t mind a pair of cats to take home.

Arthur pulled out his wallet.

“Fine.” He handed Morgana fifty pounds.

She only smirked and kept her hand out. “Merlin’s a hundred if you want him.”

“What? You can’t... you can’t _barter_ the price of our friends, Morgana.”

She smirked. “It’s not bartering, Arthur. I’m stating non-negotiable terms. But I’ll let Gwaine know you are letting him choose.”

“I hate you,” he said as he emptied his wallet.

“I’m just giving you everything you’ve been too slow or too blind to take for yourself.”

Arthur side-eyed her delusional comment, but didn’t bother to reply. Merlin as a cat did not fulfill any fantasy of his, no matter what Morgana’s crazy mind thought. They were friends, and if Arthur didn’t want to see Merlin at Gwaine’s mercy, well, that was what friends did. Protect their friends from hopeless flirts and their grabby hands.

Gwaine winked at Arthur as he approached, and Arthur bristled at his knowing smile.

Without missing a beat, Gwaine knelt to pet Freya’s hair. “You’re a wild cat, aren’t you, love? I’ll have to be careful with you.” Freya arched her back, pushing her head into Gwaine’s palm, her eyes falling shut. “Christ.” He let out a long breath, like he wasn’t sure he’d make it through the night.

With his knuckles curled under to look like a paw, Merlin batted a hand playfully at Arthur’s sock. The light touch tickled enough to make Arthur dance out of reach, but Merlin chased after him like a cat swatting at a ball of yarn.

“Stop that,” Arthur said, failing to cover his laughter. He bent to unlatch the lead from the collar and was surprised as his knuckles brushed Merlin’s costume. It wasn’t the black tee and jeans Arthur had expected. It was a soft, delicate material. It reminded him of fuzzy thermal pyjamas a child might wear. It was very … touchable.

When Merlin blinked up at him, eager and compliant, with those stupid whiskers highlighting his sharp cheekbones, something clenched tight in Arthur’s chest.

“You look ridiculous, you know,” Arthur said, his thumb brushing gently over the whiskers, careful not to smudge.

Merlin’s eyes lit up and with a tiny dart of his tongue, he caught Arthur’s wrist.

Arthur pulled away, disconcerted that the spot of cool, wet skin at his pulse point could make his knees weak. When he looked back, Merlin was staring up at him, his expression unreadable.

“Come along, cat.” Arthur cleared his throat and walked over to an unoccupied bean bag chair. It was massive, large enough to act as a three person couch. When Arthur sat, he sunk down so far he wondered if he’d need someone to pull him out. Merlin hopped immediately onto the spot beside him and curled up (as best as a grown man could curl). It was surprisingly comfortable with Merlin’s head on his thigh.

He wasn’t surprised Morgana had managed to convince Merlin to be a cat for the evening. He was a good sport, always the first to volunteer to be a victim for Morgana’s schemes -- whether it meant being a corpse for the murder mystery or agreeing to host an entire party dressed as Morgana, while she sat in the corner and drank beer with her feet up.

The party was almost normal, really. Morgana had her usual hypnotic music playing and the stupid incense burning, of course. Arthur found himself absent-mindedly stroking Merlin’s neck along the edge of his collar while he watched the crowd. To his left, Elena was fitting Percival with a bridle and a bit. Once she fastened the final buckle, she swung a leg over Percival’s back and clicked her tongue. He managed a few steps before she tumbled off and they both collapsed into laughter.

Gwen and Lancelot were playing fetch with a -- hopefully clean -- sock. Freya and Gwaine had disappeared some time ago. Honestly, Arthur didn’t want to know, but he’d tease Gwaine forever if he spotted scratch marks in the locker room on Tuesday. It struck Arthur that his odd little group of friends had suddenly become very coupled off.

He stopped stroking Merlin’s neck and shifted, needing air or space or more alcohol. Merlin sat up, tilting his head inquisitively.

“It’s nothing.” Arthur waved his hand. Merlin frowned and hopped off the chair, curling up instead at Arthur’s feet.

Canapés were served on low tables placed throughout the room. Arthur watched Lancelot pounce over to one of the plates and help himself, face first, to a shrimp cracker. Gwen cheered as he caught it delicately between his teeth, then tipped his head back to eat it all in one bite.

Morgana set down the stack of bowls in her hands and applauded Lance. She placed trays before each _pet_ , then filled shallow bowls with punch and she served each one. Arthur watched as Merlin almost broke character as he unsuccessfully tried to lap up the alcohol, his tongue doing little more than pushing the punch around the bowl. Arthur leaned forward, mesmerised. Then Merlin seemed to realise the bowl was light enough to be tipped with ease. He carefully pressed his lips to the edge and tilted it enough for a mouthful.

When Merlin turned and looked up at Arthur, a drop of punch gathering at his chin, Arthur found himself patting Merlin’s head.

“Nicely done,” he said, running a finger along Merlin’s jaw to catch the drop. He knew he was beaming proudly.

He also knew this had to be one of the most ridiculous moments of his life. And even that didn’t stop his smile. Nor did it stop his hand from running along the soft material on Merlin’s back while Merlin went to take another sip.

Arthur stood with difficulty that couldn’t only be blamed on the chair, and headed for the bar. He didn’t get two steps before Merlin was tangling in his legs and arching his back into Arthur’s calf. Arthur shifted, uncomfortable, as the contact warmed him more than it ought.

“Yes, Merlin?”

Merlin circled his legs again before moving back to his tray and nudging his bowl with his nose.

“Fine.” Arthur snorted and picked up the empty bowl, then stroked Merlin behind his felt ears. “I suppose I’m to be a responsible owner.”

Merlin purred and rubbed his face behind Arthur’s knee.

Arthur cursed under his breath and went to fill the drinks, hoping to clear his head. He and Merlin had been friends for years. He’d watched Merlin flirt with every guy at every pub. He’d watched him date and had been there to promise bodily harm to the arsehole when his heart was broken. Arthur had held him and had ignored the bit of his heart that broke each time Merlin bounced back, looking right past Arthur to the next bloke. They’d endured all of Morgana’s increasingly insane party ideas together. But they’d never done this. Arthur had never dared take the risk. And now, losing _them_ because they were caught up in a random night with Merlin as a cat was rocking Arthur to the core. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure he could stop it from happening even if he wanted to.

He downed a drink and poured himself another. The candles were all burning low. Shadows and flickering light filled the room, giving it an other-worldly quality. He stood at the bar, collecting his thoughts and losing them again...

Until he felt the brush of Merlin’s shoulder at his shin.

“Sorry,” he sighed, no more certain of what to do or how to feel than he’d been three drinks ago. He filled Merlin’s bowl and carefully set it down on Merlin’s tray. He watched with the intently-dazed interest of someone mostly drunk as Merlin’s pink tongue licked the rim where some had spilt.

He sat, his drink in one hand and the other high on this thigh, hiding his reactions as Merlin moved about the canapé table in that stupid outfit, which hugged his arse and showed off his shoulders and the tail that hung between his legs.

Merlin seemed to favour the small round chocolates Morgana had brought out earlier. They were spread out on a plate in individual paper muffin cups to make for easy eating for the pets.

“Bring me one,” Arthur said, his voice lower and deeper than he’d intended to sound.

Merlin’s teeth immediately closed on the nearest paper cup and he stalked back to Arthur. With each slide forward, his shoulder blades jutted sharply in the thin black fabric. Arthur swallowed with a loud click.

His eyes burning into Arthur’s, Merlin opened his mouth and let the paper cup drop to Arthur’s lap. Arthur’s _thank you_ caught in his throat.

He picked up the ball of dark chocolate and popped it into his mouth. It was softer than he expected. Inside was a rich chocolate ganache with a spicy finish, not enough to catch in your throat but it warmed his tongue. They were addictive.

“Another.”

Merlin’s eyes fluttered shut and he moved away, returning in a moment, putting both hands upon Arthur’s knees and dropped the cup again, a feather light touch to Arthur’s crotch. He wondered, drunkenly, if Merlin were truly a cat, would he be able to smell how turned on Arthur was.

He ate the chocolate again, and Merlin moved off to get another without waiting to be asked.

“Be careful with those chocolates,” Gwen whispered, suddenly at Arthur’s elbow. He jumped at the interruption, completely focused as he was on the sway of Merlin’s tail over his backside.

“What?”

“Just be careful with the chocolates. They’re _homemade_.”

“Morgause?” It was no secret among her friends that the only reason Morgana served anything homemade was so she could add some special ingredients purchased at Morgause’s just-this-side-of-legal herbal remedy shop.

Gwen’s shoulders rose and she smiled an apology. “I’m just the messenger.”

Arthur swallowed, wondering if the heat of the chilis was used to mask something else. He wasn’t entirely sure he could still feel his fingers.

“Merlin,” he called, his voice naturally taking a commanding tone.

Merlin crawled back to him, a confused look on his face that looked nothing like an expression you would see on a cat.

“No more chocolate, okay?”

Merlin opened his mouth to ask a question but stopped himself before any words came out. His mouth snapped shut and his bottom lip slid forward into a pout.

“The chocolates,” Arthur explained, “are _homemade_.”

Merlin’s eyes widened.

“How many did you have?”

Arthur could see him mentally calculating. He tapped his hand to Arthur’s thigh, knuckles curled under like he’d been trying to keep them all night. Arthur counted four taps.

“Four?”

Merlin brushed his forehead to Arthur’s knee in agreement, knocking his cat ears askew.

“Okay.” Arthur straightened the headband. “I’m sure it’s fine. I wasn’t planning on driving home anyway. And it’s not like we’ve never done anything foolish in front of this lot.”

Merlin smiled fondly and looked around the room.

On one of the round mattress-like pillows, Freya was licking something that might’ve been chocolate from Gwaine’s fingers. His head was thrown back, and some strange guttural sound came from his throat. Arthur looked away quickly.

When Merlin turned back to Arthur, his eyes were half-lidded and contained a predatory gleam that did in fact look very feline. He hopped up onto the chair, startled Arthur with a lap full of cat-Merlin, then rubbed his head up against Arthur’s jaw.

“You make a very realistic kitty,” Arthur said, a little breathless. “It’s a bit disturbing.”

Merlin sat up until they were eye to eye and quick as anything licked Arthur’s nose. Arthur laughed, probably too loudly and too long for what the situation warranted, but he could feel his skin tingle with the warmth of the alcohol and, yes, maybe a little something else. His body felt loose, wonderful. He wanted to laugh again. Merlin’s cheeks were red and even in the low light, Arthur could see his pupils blown wide.

Arthur was clutching him, his fingers buried in the strange soft fabric of his shirt. Merlin didn’t seem to mind though, because his lips were suddenly pressing to Arthur’s. Arthur froze. The smile still on his lips fell away in a wave of overwhelming terror. As much as he might want this -- and if he were honest with himself, he had for months now -- Merlin was likely drunk, and possibly a little high. His mind swirled in indecision.

He felt tiny cat licks to the seam of his lips and opened, unable to resist. His head spun as the kiss deepened. Arthur thought he might lose his mind. This was _Merlin_ but -- fuck -- it also wasn’t. It was this crazy cat-Merlin who was hot as fuck and whose cock was rubbing against Arthur’s stomach. The loose leggings, whatever they were, hid nothing.

He finally found the strength to pull away. He shook his head at the wrinkles of confusion on Merlin’s brow but couldn’t find the words. Merlin backed away, looking shattered, and he slid onto the floor.

Arthur shivered at the sudden loss of heat and the plummet of his adrenaline as he watched Merlin crawl out of the living room and disappear down the hall.

He gave a quick look around the room, Gwen and Lance were wrestling over a chew-toy, both breathless with giggles, stopping to snog every other moment and looking far more interested in rolling around than in gaining possession of the toy. In one of the darkened corners, it looked like Elena and Morgana were braiding Percival’s tail, but Arthur couldn’t be sure. Regardless, no one would notice or care if they disappeared.

He found Merlin in Morgana’s guest room, laid out on the bed, flat on his back. On the floor by the bed was the collar. Arthur didn’t ask permission to enter; he figured he wouldn’t get it. He just shut and locked the door behind him.

“You okay?”

“Please go.”

Arthur’s pressed his eyes shut tight at the ache in Merlin’s voice. “What I mean is, are you tripping? or drunk? Can we talk?”

“No. And no.” Merlin turned over so his back was to Arthur. “And no.”

Arthur could see a faint red line circling Merlin’s neck were the collar had been. He wanted to mouth there. He sat down on the bed, head in his hands for a long while before he asked, “Do you think this is _us_? Not whatever Morgana put in the chocolate or the punch, or hell, in the air. That stupid incense.”

“You’re an idiot, Arthur Pendragon.” Merlin’s voice was clipped and choppy like he was barely holding it together.

“That’s not the question I asked.” Feeling bold, he moved up the bed, stretching out behind Merlin. Merlin went rigid as Arthur’s hand touched his shoulder. “I need to know. I don’t want to do this if you don’t feel --” Arthur’s throat closed up, not able to put words to the chaos of his emotions where Merlin was concerned.

Merlin remained still, quiet. When Arthur didn’t go on, he turned so they were face to face and sharing a pillow. He blinked slowly, eyes wide and so blue from this close. His whiskers were smudged. A dark link of ink cut down his cheek.

Arthur wrapped his hand around the back of Merlin’s neck. He didn’t know why he’d spent so much time waiting, wondering, watching Merlin get himself hurt by idiots. He pressed his forehead to Merlin’s, whispering his name in barely a breath.

Their kiss was different this time. Arthur felt no panic. He pressed close, tightening his hold on Merlin’s nape and sliding up to tangle his fingers in his hair. Merlin’s tongue was curious and eager in his mouth. This didn’t seem wrong, couldn’t be wrong. Nothing felt more right than having Merlin so close, the sweet taste of chocolate on his lips and the soft sounds of their breathing filling the air.

“Wanted you.” Merlin nipped at his jaw. “So long.” He kissed a trail to Arthur’s ear, darting his tongue just at the right spot behind Arthur’s earlobe and Arthur gasped. “If you’re fucking with me...”

“I’m not,” Arthur choked out. “Merlin, I’m not.” He pulled back to look at Merlin, still held close, and added, “This isn’t about tonight or your stupid costume or crawling around and driving me crazy with your arse in the air.”

“That’s ... good.” Merlin laughed, and flipped Arthur to his back then, crawling on top of him. “But the arse in the air helped, though, right?”

“Christ,” Arthur whispered as Merlin straddled him. “Yes, it helped.” They kissed more, like they couldn’t get enough of each other’s mouths. Merlin suckled gently on Arthur’s bottom lip with teasing flicks of his tongue that were full of promised talent. Arthur heard a rip and knew he’d been pulling Merlin's shirt too hard, but he didn’t know where else to put his hands. He snuck under the hem, and then it was soft, soft skin under his palm. He slid his hands up Merlin’s back and dug in with his blunt nails just to watch him arch that gorgeous neck. Arthur's only regret was that the collar was on the floor.

Merlin was writhing like a wild thing. God, he always knew Merlin would be fantastic in bed, uninhibited and full of passion like he was in everything. Arthur’s hips rolled up into the weight and the heat of Merlin on his lap and the friction sent a shock of pleasure up his spine. Arthur was going to come in his pants. They both were. Merlin sucked a bruise into Arthur’s neck like he wanted the world to know in the morning exactly who Arthur had been with, or maybe he just wanted a reminder for Arthur each time he looked in the mirror. Arthur hissed at the sting, wondering how the hell he’d cover it for work on Monday and whether he even cared.

His hands roamed downwards to cup Merlin’s arse and he felt the swish of something between his thumbs. “That fucking tail.”

With little sighs of exertion, Merlin rocked his hips, his cock sliding against Arthur’s. “I was hoping you’d like it?” Merlin sniggered into Arthur’s chest.

“You’re positively evil,” Arthur said, landing a smack to Merlin’s arse, then in an impressive feat of athleticism, he slipped out from under Merlin and moved in behind him. With both hands on Merlin’s hips, he pressed his cock against Merlin’s ass, rubbing up against the bulge of the cat tail trapped between Merlin’s arse cheeks. “You made me insane tonight.”

Arthur rocked against him, fully clothed, enjoying the intimate press of their bodies until it became too much.

“I don’t have anything,” Arthur said at last. Of course he didn’t; Morgana’s parties never ended with a hook up. Not for him.

Merlin groaned. “This outfit doesn’t exactly have pockets.” He reached for the top drawer of the bedside table and cursed when it turned out to be empty. “Nothing.”

“It’s fine. Lots of other things...” Arthur’s voice drifted off, lost in the possibilities. He tugged down Merlin’s waistband and mouthed the gorgeous span of pale skin above his arse. “I want to fuck your thighs,” he blurted out, suddenly needing it more than anything.

Merlin’s head fell to the mattress. He whimpered a _God, yes_ and scrabbled for the hand lotion on the bedside table -- that, at least, Morgana provided her guests.

Arthur stripped off his jeans, cursing as they caught on his ankle, and he had to stop and breathe to find focus enough to kick them off. Before his last leg was off, Merlin was there with a squirt of thick white cream in his palm. The flowery scent made his nose curl and one look at Merlin told him they were both trying not to think of how the smell reminded them of Morgana.

Merlin just shrugged. “Needs must,” he said and wrapped his slick palm around Arthur’s cock.

Arthur’s eyes fell shut and all thoughts of Morgana fled. Merlin worked the cream over his cock in long, slow strokes, leaning in to kiss Arthur, wet, open and messy. A groan slipped from Arthur’s throat as Merlin thumbed his slit.

Arthur stilled Merlin’s hand. “You need to stop.” He met Merlin’s lips for another kiss, and began to tug Merlin’s leggings down until his cock bounced free. It was gorgeous -- long and thick, the purple head already glistening.

Without a word, Merlin handed him the lotion and Arthur returned the favour. When Arthur’s fingers closed around Merlin’s cock, it twitched in his palm. Arthur tugged in short, quick pulls just testing the waters. Merlin had to hold Arthur’s shoulders for balance so he figured he’d got it right.

“Okay. Now you need to stop.” Merlin’s grin was just... it was just Merlin’s usual grin. The one he’d give Arthur when he would hand him a cup of tea _just right_ , or when they got a joke no one else did. The simplicity of this being them, only better, made Arthur’s heart stutter. A term of endearment sat on his tongue; he had to swallow it back because it was way too early.

“You’re blushing,” Merlin said, sounding a little in awe. Merlin kissed his cheek, as if he wanted to feel the heat beneath his lips.

“It’s just your beautiful cock,” Arthur teased. “I’m so sorry to let it go.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and got on the bed, positioned on his elbows and his knees. He looked back over his shoulder, eyebrow raised and wiggled to show off his arse high in the air. “Still sorry?”

Arthur’s cheeks ached from smiling so broadly, but Merlin was utterly ridiculous. Utterly shameless. And naturally irresistible. For heaven’s sake, he still had the stupid felt ears on his head and he couldn’t look more amazing. Moving in behind Merlin, Arthur pressed Merlin’s legs together and straddled the outside of his knees. He pressed his cock in, just under Merlin's balls. Merlin’s thighs were lithe, more muscled than they appeared in skinny jeans, and squeezed together they were perfection.

Each thrust was slick and smooth, with a faint tickle of hair that made Arthur’s balls tighten. Arthur loved to fuck like this; it was different from the clutch of a man’s arse at his cock, but it was fantastic; the drag of Merlin’s balls above his cock, the way his cock knocked the underside of Merlin’s on a good deep thrust. Sweat prickled Arthur temple as they fucked. Merlin’s hips became slippery under his palm and Arthur held tighter, snapped his hips harder, not caring that the smack of the headboard could probably be heard easily from the living room.

Merlin had his weight all on one shoulder and Arthur felt him wanking himself in time with Arthur’s thrusts, the odd brush of the heel of Merlin’s palm hitting the tip of his cock as he thrust in. Merlin rasped, “Going to... come.”

“Wait. Damn.” He forced himself to stop the rocking of his hips, hanging his head to gather his breath. “I want to see you.” He pulled his cock from Merlin’s thighs. “Turn over.”

Merlin groaned and grabbed the headband with the cat ears, which had been moving progressively forward with each thrust, and tossed it to the floor. Flipping onto his back, Merlin spread out so Arthur was kneeling between his thighs.

“Now get yourself off,” Arthur said, his voice low and demanding.

Merlin hummed his approval of the plan and began to stroke himself, hard and fast. Arthur watched, one hand on the base of his cock, barely holding his control in check. With the other hand he slid a finger down Merlin’s cleft.

As Merlin’s face shuddered with pleasure Arthur pushed in, just one finger, but it was enough. Merlin cried out, clenching around the finger and spurting long strips of come onto his chest.

“Gorgeous,” Arthur breathed.

When the spasms calmed, Arthur pulled his finger free. Holding Merlin’s knee for balance, he pulled himself off -- three, four strokes and his orgasm crashed over him. With a muffled cry, he added to the mess, coming over Merlin’s softening cock.

He collapsed to the bed at Merlin’s side, grateful he’d locked the door because he didn’t plan to get up or get dressed until long after the sun came up.

Now that the adrenaline was fading, he could hear the buzzing in his ears, the faint beginnings of a hangover. Luckily the afterglow muted it nicely. He watched Merlin grab a handful of tissues, give his chest a sloppy wipe and toss the pile onto the floor to deal with later.

Merlin snuggled in beside him, rubbing his head against Arthur’s chest, purring.

“Ah, my kitty’s back.” Arthur chuckled, wrapping his arms around Merlin. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”

Merlin kitten-licked Arthur’s chin and Arthur felt a shiver of arousal through his exhausted body.

Resting his chin on the top of Merlin’s head, he breathed in and caught the scent of Merlin’s shampoo and a faint residual smell of plastic from the ears Merlin had worn all evening. He whispered to himself, “Morgana and her mad ideas.”

Merlin wriggled out of his grasp to scowl and Arthur couldn’t stop the silly grin that tugged at his lips.

“Well, the collar’s a keeper,” Arthur conceded, kissing the furrow between Merlin’s eyebrows. “Obviously.”

“I like the tail,” Merlin said, fidgeting until he’d found a comfortable spot with his head on Arthur’s shoulder.

As they drifted off to sleep Arthur knew he’d have to face Morgana’s unbearable smugness in the morning, but this was worth it.

And Merlin was right; the tail was nice, too.  


**Author's Note:**

> [Link back to the original LJ post](http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/657635.html)


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